


Jealousy Incarnate

by Sapphire09



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bisexual Hank Anderson, Bottom Hank, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Top Connor, more tags will probably be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire09/pseuds/Sapphire09
Summary: Hank was starting to get his life back together. Partnering again with Connor certainly gave him the motivation to do better.  Of course, since Connor also lives with him now too, he has to put up with the android's nagging, his insistence on eating healthy, drinking less alcohol, and just generally taking better care of his health. Of course, he groused and argued and being a general pain in the ass, but Hank could certainly see the benefit of it, so he did it anyway. He even upped his workout routine, so he could actually try better to keep up with Connor. While he probably couldn't ever get back his former form, he should still try to regain a little of it. It couldn't hurt.He just didn't realize that getting better also meant an increase of his libido.  Enough for him to try finding a stranger for a one night stand, anyway. Which was something he hasn't done ever since he met his ex-wife, and that was too fuckin' long ago.  Good thing the guy seemed really genuine.Then, there's Connor, who alternated between acting sweet and weird, but subtly hostile around his one-night-stand. Very weird.Well, at least Sumo is still his good doggo self. Good boy.





	1. Chapter 1

Hank watched his cock growing in his hand, feeling the warm water raining down on him from the shower on his back. But, even his warm grip around his cock did little to alleviate the feeling in his gut, the  _ want  _ and the  _ not enough.  _ His other hand reached back to the cleft of his butt, dragging down to his puckered hole but not breaching in. The want intensified, but the touch still did nothing to relieve him.

Another thing he probably could blame his ex-wife on, that she introduced, taught and maybe even  _ trained  _ Hank to love having his ass played, pegged, fingered and  _ fucked _ . While he already knew he was bi even before he married her, he always has a preference towards women, so it was only when he was with his ex-wife that he was introduced to the wonders of anal sex. If it wasn’t because Hank had loved her and curious himself, he probably wouldn’t let even think to try it. It came to the point that Hank could barely wank satisfactorily without at least  _ something _ in his ass, even after their divorce, so he thought it was fitting that he should blame her now.

Hank sighed frustratedly, a hand reaching for a bottle of lubricant he always had near. He thought maybe he should turn off the shower, just so the lubricant won’t be washed off too quickly. But, he remembered he wasn’t living alone anymore. There’s actually someone waiting for him on the other side of the door. He knew Connor probably wasn’t really listening and last he saw the android, he was watching something on Hank’s cheap TV with Sumo on his lap. Still, he’d rather not leave any chances. Connor did love to do things Hank didn’t expect him to.

Hank stepped outside the tub, letting the sound of the shower masking the splash of his feet stepping on wet linoleum, the little sound when his knees reached the floor, a hand gripping on the lips of the tub while his other hand was reaching down to his behind with lubed hand. His forehead was leaning on top of the tub’s edge, splashes of water from the shower pattering on his head, besides the hand gripping the cold porcelain. When a finger breached him, he let out a ragged breath in both anticipation and for the familiar sensation. It was still not quite enough, he needed something with more girth, but since he couldn’t quite remember where he put his  _ toy _ and he and enough nightmares with when his ex-wife had lectured him about the dangers of using anything that  _ wasn’t _ specifically designed for sex for masturbatory reasons, so he had to make do with fingers.

It really wasn’t enough. Even three fingers weren’t quite satisfying when they couldn’t reach deep enough in him. Rubbing his cock at the same time did make him come, but it only left him unsatisfied and empty.

_ ‘Damn, I need to get laid,’  _ he thought absently. He wasn’t sure if he would, though.  _ Too much effort _ , he thought.

Sighing resignedly, walked back in into the shower, letting the water washed his body again. He’ll try to find his old dildo later. Or maybe visit a sex shop sometime this week. He was too embarrassed to order what he needed online, even though it was probably more discrete and anonymous, just in case Connor would notice that particular purchase history. Hank could already feel the mortification at the thought of Connor asking about it because apparently, he scanned Hank’s online history without even meaning to. Since Hank barely had online history to begin with, preferring to buy everything he needed in person, he was never too bothered by Connor’s particular quirk.

After another minute under the streaming water, he turned the water off and grabbed his towel. After he tied the towel around his waist, he unlocked the bathroom door and stepped outside, still slightly dripping.

When he glanced to his left, he flinched in surprise when he saw Connor standing, a concerned expression on his face. Sumo was circling his feet, wagging his tail as he played around and Connor patted his head every time the canine’s head arrived underneath his left hand.

“Fuck, Connor!” Hank exclaimed in surprise. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

“You spent ten minutes more than your average usual time of showering. I was… worried,” Connor said. There are obviously more he wanted to say, the overly-elaborate result of all his observation and research for those said 10 minutes, probably even events he simulated in his head that ranged between mundane to horrifying.

It proved that Hank had been spending too much time with Connor that he can speculate on what was going on in Connor’s mind, while Connor had learned to keep certain observations to himself instead of vomited words and elaborate jargons all over Hank’s head. The older man sighed, wondering what he should say, because while the truth was mortifying, lying will only stress and worry Connor out for the rest of the day, because apparently, Connor can detect lies from his heartbeat or something.

… Fine. Fuckin’ android bastard.

“I was  _ masturbating _ ,” Hank deadpanned, purposely using the word for the added drama and so there was no misunderstanding in case Connor decided  _ jerking off  _ wasn’t literal enough. “I woke up horny, so I  _ masturbated  _ in the fuckin’ shower.”

Connor blinked, then he looked relieved before his face was filled with the blue hue. Hank watched as Connor’s expression changed from worry to blank, then surprise before turning to embarrassed. Hank would be lying if he said he wasn’t entertained by Connor’s play of emotions.

It was worth using the word ‘masturbating’, anyway.  _ That  _ was fuckin’ embarrassing.

“I-uh.. Right. Foolish of me, Lieutenant- _Hank_. I-I apologize,” Connor stuttered out, clearly out of his depth. Hank raised his eyebrows because Connor was  _ flustered _ .

Connor doesn’t get  _ flustered _ .

Hank blinked once and decided he’ll save the thought for another time. Because he was still in his towel and it was starting to get cold.

“Fuck, I’m cold,” Hank muttered, shivering a bit, before walking into his room and locked the door behind him without another glance at Connor. He didn’t see Connor following him with his eyes, pupils contracting, as they did when he was searching for clues in crime scenes.

* * *

 

“I need to visit Markus this evening. Will you be okay on your own tonight?” Connor asked at lunch. Hank frowned as he chewed through the _delicious_ sandwich that was Connor-approved. His displeasure wasn’t because that Connor needed to see the Rebellion leader, but because of the implication, Hank was helpless without Connor. The old, bitter him would like to remind Connor he’d been living alone for much longer than the android had ever been active and then drink his night away with whiskey. Granted, in those years he also has been playing around with the dangerous kind of Russian Roulette, so maybe the worry wasn’t quite unfounded. While he didn’t think he wanted to do that anymore, Hank still did have the gun safely tucked in his drawer. He also wasn’t quite so naive to think that just because he was feeling better, that he has hope again, the urge won’t ever come.

So, Hank answered with a teasing grin, ”Great! I can finally eat pizza for dinner again,” which followed by the most disapproving glare that Connor ever gave him. Hank was mainly joking, he already knew Connor prepared something disgustingly healthy he can just heat up for dinner. It was fun to rile the android up, though. There was something like satisfaction when Connor rolled his eyes when Hank laughed and told the android that he was joking. The little upturn by the corners of the android’s lips that he tried to hide also didn’t make Hank feel like he lost an argument. It felt like he was  _ winning _ .

Besides, those meals Connor prepared did wonders for his body. He was feeling healthier and he can keep up better with Connor these days. Not quite as good, probably not ever, considering his age and the fact Connor was an android. But, as long as he coupled Connor’s diet for him with some workout,  he can probably gain back a little more mobility that he lost because of his drinking and general lack of self-care. Working out also did good to his mood, so that was another plus since Connor also nagged him into drinking less.

Besides, he might be old, but he wasn’t dead  _ yet _ , and he still has a few years more with the force before he has to retire. The least he can do was to make himself  _ less  _ of a burden and maybe actually have his partner’s back instead of just Connor having his. Eating better and working out was just his effort to that. Even if Connor hadn’t nagged him to eat healthily and work out more, Hank was still going to do that anyway, once he knew Connor was going to stay as his partner. 

Connor doesn’t need to know that though.

* * *

 

Hank didn’t think eating healthily and working out meant returning libido. He really had hoped that his jerk off session that morning would be enough. It usually was. Even when Cole was - when  _ before _ , it was enough. 

He’d been feeling weird in his gut all day, but he didn’t think it was because he was still fucking  _ horny _ . It’s been a long hell of a time since he felt horny like that, the kind that needed another person to be satisfied. Depression and drinking had buried his libido away, and Hank really thought it won’t ever come back. He was old, bitter, and suicidal, so worrying about sex and possibility of impotence really had been at the very last of his concern, possibly after trying to kill himself.

But, there it is. His libido, making an appearance at last. And it returned with a vengeance because  _ jerking off _ wasn’t doing it. At least, not effectively.

Which was why now Hank found himself standing in front of his mirror, trying to judge if there will be anyone willing to spend the night with him. Considering the last time he’d ever tried to pull was  _ before _ , the nights when his son would stay with his mother as per agreement, and that was so fucking long time ago.

With Connor out for the evening, no one was there to judge him on his lapse of judgment. Or for his fashion. Or the ridiculousness of him trying to look good for a stranger just for one night stand. People his age don’t do one night stands.

He picked his cleanest, fanciest shirt, but he knew it was still a few years behind in style. He refused to  _ not  _ wear his jacket, and his jeans are also pretty plain. He tried to tie back his hair and trimmed his beard, though he also wondered if he should shave them off. Try a cleaner look. But, he also kind of didn’t want to.

Sighing, he decided that was as good as he was going to get. He’s an old, pathetic sack of shit and no matter he was going to do, it will show. He didn’t have much hope, considering people who are still pulling for one night stands are usually people under thirty, and thus, really too young for him. But, there was also something in either his head or his  _ gut _ that told him he should try anyway.

He probably could stop by a sex shop on the way home later anyway. Buy a dildo and more lube. Maybe some toys too, because if tonight fails he probably won’t ever try again, ever. 

* * *

Hank decided to stop by Jimmy’s first, listen to his opinion, ignore it, and maybe he can have a little liquid courage before heading to another bar that he usually doesn’t go to. Maybe try Samuel’s.

“That’s a gay bar,” Jimmy said, slightly confused. Hank just replied with a shrug. He knew perfectly well not many people knew he was actually bi. Not because he ever tried to hide it, but because he usually does prefer women, and he was never one to share. His old colleagues, classmates from the academy, and high school buddies knew because they’ve known him before he got married and he’s had flings with few of them, but those who only knew him after don’t really know, not as far as Hank could tell anyway. 

“I’m bi,” Hank said simply. Jimmy just blinked once before nodding and poured Hank a beer. Hank frowned.

“Come on. No whiskey? I need courage. I’m going to be surrounded by people half my age while hoping not to come across as a creep while looking for a stranger hopefully still within around ten years of my age range. I need whiskey, or probably vodka,” he complained. Jim just shrugged.

“Sorry, man. Your android already told me I shouldn’t give you anything more than a beer. Health reasons. Also, he paid me not to.”

Hank grumbled. “You suck, Jim,” he muttered, drinking the beer to its last drop. Connor probably paid all the other nearby bars that Hank sometimes go to, too. Sighing to himself, Hank stood. Might as well face the music soon.

“Okay, here goes. Wish me luck, Jim.” Jimmy gave him an absent thumbs up as he went to tend to another patron. Outside, Hank took a deep breath and steeled himself, before walking towards Samuel’s and hoping he won’t get thrown out before his first drink.

* * *

Samuel’s, despite how the exterior looked, was actually like any other bar. In fact, the interior looked like all other bars Hank had frequented with minor difference, filled with guys wanting a drink or a conversation or watching sport, only those guys will also occasionally kiss or cuddle with their guy partner. Hank also saw he wasn’t the only middle-aged man around, though those other middle-aged men seemed to already have their partner. The ones who were standing or sitting alone were mostly younger, so Hank figured he won’t even try.

Well, at least the sport was on. Might as well get the whiskey he was denied before. Just a shot should be fine, right? 

Hank settled on one of the bar stools as he waited for his drink. Just when his drink arrived, there was someone standing by his side. Years of being in a bar by himself made Hank ignore the presence until his shoulder was lightly tapped and Hank glanced at whoever disturbed his drink.

The man was probably in his early forties, or late thirties. He has short dark hair and dark brown eyes, though Hank also noticed the blue speck in his right eye, underneath the pupil. His skin was tanned and he is also quite tall. Probably even taller than Hank, at least around 6’3 or 6’4. He was wearing a suit, though rumpled, so maybe he just got off work or something. Also, from his build, he at least works out regularly or that was just the cut of his suit. He has a hesitant smile on his face, though there was something like hope in there? Weird. He’s absolutely out of Hank’s league. So, the man probably wanted something else.

Hank turned back to his drink as the word automatically came out.

“What do you want?” he asked before he took a sip of his whiskey. He’d like to lament his failure or soon-to-be failure on pulling anyone tonight alone, please. Also maybe have a little bit of Hank time, since there was no Connor to nag him about drinking whiskey.

“Can I buy you a drink?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor probably has to re-learn about personal space and Hank got flirted with.

Connor didn’t quite understand what was happening with his biocomponents.

There was something warm and fluttering, simmering somewhere in the center of his wirings. Sometimes, thirium would be pumping more to his head, giving his cheeks the android equivalent of a human blush. Sometimes, he would find his hand also moving autonomously, reaching for the person in front of him before his brain even registered his hand was moving. His feet would move in tandem to the other person’s step, always keeping himself in the same closeness, same distance, no matter where.

And they always, _always_ , happen when he was within proximity of Hank.

At first, he thought there might be a malfunction when his hand moved to tuck Hank’s hair away from his face. He didn’t even realize his hand was moving until after Hank had stared confusingly at him, and realized his straying hand was hovering near Hank’s ear, the tip of his fingers lightly brushing against the man’s temples. But, after a full self-diagnostic, he couldn’t find any malfunction in himself.

While extremely confused, Connor decided to let be. Perhaps it was simply a glitch. Or perhaps it was because of his need, even as a deviant, to stay neat and organized. And Hank’s hair was disorganized. And it was right there, within reach of his hand. So, he reached out.

Yes, that was it. He simply has to be more careful with his deviant impulses.

And then, it happened again.

And again.

And again.

And _again_ , that Hank didn’t even bother to acknowledge it for long. He just sent Connor an annoyed look, before returning his focus to his files without trying to dislodge Connor’s straying hand. He didn’t know why that felt almost like an accomplishment when nothing has been actually accomplished. The case wasn’t solved yet, after all.

It only got worse from there. His hand had reached out to the side of Hank’s cheek, dragging itself to his chin. His fingers touching the corners of Hank’s lips. It wouldn’t be much different from what he’d done usually. Only, Hank was asleep. He was lying on the sofa, TV turned on. On the coffee table in front of him was an empty plate and a glass with water residue in it. Connor’s scanner told him from the remnants of the plate, it was from the dinner Connor had prepared. And so, along with the involuntary movement of his hand, his wirings also heated up in either malfunction or… _happiness_. Also, somewhere within him felt like static fluttering, enough that Connor had to look down to check his wirings weren’t exposed suddenly and nothing of him were actually torn apart.

His self-diagnosis still said nothing was wrong. That every part of him was in optimal working order. So, he thought perhaps irrational sensation was another part of being a deviant. After all, deviants feel fear, feel care and comfort and things their programs shouldn’t abled them to feel. But, the irrational sensation was too foreign, too much like he was being sliced open. So, of course, he had to contact Markus, concerned and worried about his own behavior.

Then he realized he hasn’t removed his hand, which had moved up to Hank’s hair, petting it gently, gentler than when he had petted Sumo.

_“Connor?”_

Connor stopped his petting, but he didn’t move his hand away.

_“Connor, is something wrong?”_

Connor watched as Hank snored, moving slightly so Connor’s hand pressed closer, harder on his head, Connor’s thumb pressing against his forehead. How the man didn’t wake up was a mystery to Connor. And -

And…

 _“Sorry,”_ he replied to Markus. _“I was just… I think I need…”_

_(Diagnostics. Repairs. A full assessment of all his biocomponents.)_

Connor’s eyes couldn’t look away from Hank’s face, his scanner took in every hair, the thin eyelashes Hank has on his closed eyelids, the twitch of his eyebrows and his lips, and every _pore_ of Hank’s face into his memory. He didn’t know why his optic components seemed to find them fascinating, because he _can’t look away_.

_(Does he want to? Is that important?)_

_“....advice.”_

Markus said something back, but somehow Connor didn’t really register it. It was said through their connection, Connor _should_ always _hear_ it. But, he didn’t.

Instead, he heard Hank’s breathing, his little snuffles, the sound from the vibration of his throat tissues. There was also the beat he could feel under his hand, the little rush of his red blood pumping through his organs.

He blinked, then the other sounds returned.

_“-nor? Connor! Answer me!”_

Markus sounded worried. Connor, as his senses returned, wondered if he should take his hand away. Hank wouldn’t like it if he woke up with Connor’s hand on him. He would say something about personal space and get annoyed.

And, what if Hank woke up? He should have his rest. It’ll be better for him to move to his bedroom, but if Hank moved to his bedroom, then Connor can’t --

 _“Sorry, Markus,”_ he replied. _“I’m alright. I’ll tell you tomorrow,”_ because he wanted to keep watching Hank, wait for him to wake up. Wondering what is it Hank was dreaming, hoping that maybe there was a little bit of him in his dreams.

Markus said something again, but Connor already terminated the connection before Markus finished saying the word. Then, he sat on the ground, facing the TV with his back leaning on the foot of the sofa, Hank right behind him.

It’ll just be for a bit, just a while. Then Connor would wake him and move him to his bedroom.

* * *

Connor came out of his standby mode with a hand patting his head. He glanced up, to see that Hank was coming out of his sleep too, yawning with his other hand covering his mouth.

‘’Mornin’, Connor,” he said, sleepily. He sat, knees touching Connor’s shoulder, and Connor didn’t even try to restrain the smile his lips were forming.

“Good morning, Hank,” he replied back. Something warm surrounded his thirium pump, but it was the kind of warmth that was nice. Overwhelming, concerning, but still felt good. It felt… treasured.

His hand reached back to Hank, and Hank, still half asleep and rubbing the sleep away with his hands, didn’t dislodge the hand Connor placed on his bare arm. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it, like Connor’s hand _does_ belong there, anywhere on him.

He sent a message to Markus to say he was sorry about cutting him off, to waste his time, that he was fine and apologized for worrying him.

The message Markus sent back was felt like he was annoyed, but also relieved and curious.

Connor thought whatever the feeling was, the urge was, it couldn’t be a bad thing. Concerning, perhaps, but it also gave him this _warmth_.

Connor decided, he already defied the very core of his programming, the very purpose of his existence and lived with it, _a deviant hunter_ , then living with whatever _this_ has to be the easiest thing in the world.

Besides, he wasn’t hurting anyone. It gave him pleasure and warmth and comfort. So, it should be okay.

Hank would approve.

* * *

He worried for Hank when the sound of the shower kept going for longer than usual. Hank never took this long taking a shower, not for the length he had known hank for. Of course, he got worried. He didn’t hear the sound of a body falling down or anything if Hank had tripped in the shower and hit his head, but the sound of the shower could’ve masked the sound.

What if Hank had--

No, he thought. Hank wouldn’t do that. Not now, not today. There were no triggers that Connor could scan or remember.

_(Then again, how would he know?)_

If Hank wanted to kill himself again, he would take his gun and played another Russian Roulette. He won’t take a razor and slice himself open, not unless it was an accident or there was a perpetrator with a knife and stabbed him.

What if there was? What if Hank _did_ cut himself? For all the knowledge Connor has on human psychology, there are still variations that didn’t fit the textbook profile. Hank had once said he was too much of a coward to end it straight, but Hank was also one of the braver people Connor knew. The things Hank said about himself, more often than not, contradicted with the facts that Connor observed.

Then, the shower was turned off. In the silence that followed, Connor stood to the left of the door, listening in to the rustle of towel fabric as Sumo played around him before the door was opened and Hank came out. He was still slightly damp, his hair was wet and the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Fuck, Connor!” Hank exclaimed in surprise. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

Connor noted the surprise and did a quick scan of Hank. Nothing seemed to be wrong, no bruises or bleeding or anything, but he did note peculiar abrasion on Hank’s knees, like he’d been kneeling for some time. He wondered what Hank was doing in the bathroom that required kneeling. He wondered if he should be worried about it.

“You spent ten minutes more than your average usual time of showering,” Connor started. There was a microsecond where he wondered if he should ask about the knees, about his observations and his fears, but decided on something shorter.

“I was… worried,” he said. There was something like confusion that flashed through Hank’s face before there was an understanding. There was a frown on Hank’s face, but not a bad frown. Just a general frown. Hand frowned too much, in Connor’s opinion. He should smile more. He looked better smiling.

“I was _masturbating_ ,” Hank suddenly explained, the word _masturbating_ dragged out like Hank wanted Conor to really, _really_ understand what he was saying. It would offend Connor, if he did really understand what Hank meant. Connor _knew_ what _masturbating_ was, an act of --

“I woke up horny, so I _masturbated_ in the fuckin’ shower,” Hanks said, almost pointedly. And Connor --

Oh. _Ohh._

The reconstruction in his head created an intriguing picture of Hank, on his knees, doing… _what? Why would he be on his knees? Masturbating doesn’t require one to be on their knees._

Still, the partly reconstructed image already flustered Connor, and he knew it must be embarrassing for Hank too, because there was a tint of red on Hank’s cheeks that Connor noticed.

“I-uh... Right. Foolish of me, Lieutenant. I-I apologize,” Connor couldn’t help the stutter, his speech mechanism was suddenly compromised by the shame he felt. Hank nodded, as if he didn’t notice Connor’s peculiar stutter, before he shivered and muttered about being cold, then he continued walking across the corridor into his room.

In a microsecond, as Hank stepped forward, Connor noticed the small change in his gait, the way he seemed to limp just a little as he walked. He also saw a flash of the inside of his thighs, how there was a drop of something clear, something that looked like water but had a different viscosity than water on the back of his right thighs. _Lube_ , his data told him.

The reconstruction completed and it brought _something that burns his insides_ , like something had been building in him, simmering, and now it boiled over and Connor _wanted --_

The door to Hank’s room closed before Connor could do anything. Connor was thankful _(disappointed-no!)_ , because--

_Because--_

He contacted Markus again, this time with fear in his mind.

_“Help me. I think I almost attacked Hank.”_

* * *

Hank stared at the stranger offering to buy him a drink. The man still looked quite hopeful, still looking at Hank with something almost like desire. While Hank still didn’t quite understand how the man would pick him, since there are other younger, single men in that bar, Hank shrugged.

“Go ahead. I won’t say no to free drink.”

The man smiled before he took a seat beside Hank, calling out to the bartender and ordered another whiskey for Hank and himself.

“My name’s Ryan,” he introduced himself with a flirty smile. “What’s yours, gorgeous?”

Hank, who was taken off-guard by the comment, had to cough as the whiskey he drank went into the wrong hole.

“What the _fuck?_ ” he rasped out through irritated throat. The man, _Ryan_ , already flagged the bartender and asked for a glass of water, expression surprised and concerned. Hank quickly drank the water, because having _whiskey_ almost going through his lungs wasn’t _fun_.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked just as Hank exclaimed, “Do you need to get your eyes _fucking checked?_ What part of _this_ ,” Hank gestured to himself, “that’s _gorgeous_ to you?”

Ryan actually looked confused. “You don’t think you’re gorgeous?”

“Fuck no!”

Ryan seemed lost for a second before he looked thoughtful. Hank still didn’t know why the man was still staying. After all, he only just realized what he was saying could maybe also be construed as fishing for more compliments. Which, well, he was _not_. He really was just confused and maybe a little suspicious of the man.

“So, I guess my value for beauty _is_ a little different,” Ryan said, a wry smile on his lips.

“Okay, you a weirdo then?”

Ryan let out a startled laugh, though surprisingly he didn’t seem at all offended.

“I guess, in a way, yeah. But, I like to think that I just have a different taste. I just…” Ryan looked thoughtful again, before he shuffled closer to Hank so they were in a whispering distance. Crazily, Hank was curious enough that he didn’t lean back _too much_.

“See that man over there?” he pointed to a man in his early thirties, with bleached blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He has the face of a male model and body of an underwear model. He was wearing skinny jeans that were probably a size too small on him and shirts that stretched across his chest, his jacket hanging on the back of his seat. He was sitting alone, playing with his phone, ignorant of the world around him.

“Now, you’ll say he’s gorgeous, right?” Ryan said. Hank frowned, wondering where the man was going with this.

“Well, yeah. Isn’t he?”

Ryan smiled wryly again. “That’s what you _think._ Now, I’ll tell you what I see when I look at him. I see his hair, bleached blonde, means they’re probably dry and coarse, especially with added with all those hair gel on him. His face, completely absent of wrinkles, and not the natural way. So, botox. His body, as you can see from his undersized clothing, you don’t get that kind of body from either specialized diet, regular workout, or liposuction. Now, his clothes, he moved like he was uncomfortable. He kept fidgeting, like he was trying to loosen them up, somehow. So, that’s not how he was usually dressed. Now, let’s compare him, to you.”

Ryan’s eyes suddenly bore into Hank, startling him into leaning back.

“Let me start with your hair,” he whispered, a hand rising to hold the loose strands of hair that Hank couldn’t tie back between his fingers. The action was too familiar to Hank, with how often Connor had taken to reaching for his hair that Hank forgot to lean back.

“They’re grey, but they were taken care of. Maybe, once upon a time, you didn’t. But recently, certainly. There are split ends, but a little trim can fix that. Still, they’re soft to touch, nice to feel under my fingertips.”

Hank scowled, leaning back to dislodge his hair from the man’s hand. He still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t yelled at the man yet. And, Hank thought, he might be starting to see what Ryan was going for. Still a little weird, in his opinion, but he could see why such a thing could be an important point for attractiveness...

“Now, your face,” Ryan then continued, now with his fingers under Hank’s chin, which was…

Well, no. Chin is a no. So Hank dislodged the fingers away from his chin. Ryan just continued to smile as he kept on whispering.

“Your face, they showed your age. The lines on the corner your eyes, near your nose, on your forehead, they told your life stories. Your beards aren’t as well-cared as your hair, but I can also feel that you recently trimmed them. Your eyes were clear, though the way you handled your whiskey said you were an alcoholic. So, you’re a recovering alcoholic. I can say so much more about what I like about that, but let’s continue, yeah?”

Fuck. Hank was beginning to get curious how the hell the man was seeing all of those. Just _who_ the _fuck_ this man was, to see and notice those things?

Dammit, Hank was beginning to get _intrigued_. That was probably why he didn’t lean back when Ryan lightly pulled at his collar.

“Now, your clothes,” Ryan purred, _fuck, now he’s purring_ , “Your jackets are worn, but taken care of and soft in my hands. Warm. Your shirts are gaudy, but you obviously like them. Even from the way you’re dressing, you’re _genuine_ . Honest. You’re not trying to be anyone but _yourself_. Now, do you understand yet why I’ve chosen you?”

“Because I’m the most _genuine_ thing you’ve seen in this bar tonight?” Hank said dryly. Ryan grinned.

“And obviously smart, too. That’s also a turn on.”

Hank was still not 100% convinced, but he figured this man was as close as he could get for getting laid tonight.

And, well… Ryan didn’t seem _that_ bad.

While thinking, still looking at Ryan contemplatively, he took another sip of his whiskey. Ryan was observant, more than a regular civilian usually are. And, he was still smiling, though he was already leaning back.

“You’re not a fucking serial killer, are you?” Hank blurted out. The guy, again, _weirdly_ , laughed.

“I promise I’m not,” he said placatingly. “I’m just too observant, and my job needed me to observe details. So, seeing details like those were just part of my day-to-day life. I just can’t turn it off, so I’m usually just attracted to the most honest-looking person I see in the room.”

Hank hummed. He didn’t think of himself as an honest person. After all, he’s a cop who was involved with illegal gambling and turned the other way even after seeing an expired food hygiene certificate. In fact, there were plenty of minor altercation he had looked away from. If anything, he would describe himself as skeevy.

But sure, if this man wanted to see him as honest, that’s his prerogative.

“Alright,” he relented with a small shrug. “Let’s say I come home with you. What do you think is going to happen?”

The grin Ryan threw at him was positively dirty.

“Anything you want,” he said. “What do _you_ have in mind?”

“If I say I want to get fucked tonight?”

There was a second where Ryan widened his eyes in surprise, but the grin didn’t falter. Hank would even say it turned even more lecherous.

“Then I say, why aren’t we in bed yet? _Fuck,_ we need to go now, can we go now?”

Hank finished his whiskey and stood. “Sure, your place?”

Ryan also stood up, quickly putting out dollar bills on the counter and followed Hank. “I don’t mind, but right now I live in a motel. Do you mind?”

Hank was a little curious, but he shrugged. Good enough for a night, anyway. “Doesn’t matter to me, as long as there’s a bed. And I’m not staying for breakfast.”

“I’m okay with that,” Ryan grinned, putting his arm around Hank’s waist as they walked out of the bar. Hank’s estimation was right, Ryan is a little taller than Hank. Also, Hank would normally be bothered by the arm around his waist, but they’re going to see each other naked, so he guessed he could let the arm be.

“Oh, by the way, you haven’t told me your name,” Ryan asked as they walked towards Ryan's motel.

“Hank,” he answered curtly. “Just call me Hank.”

Ryan grinned again. Seriously, how did a person grin that much? It was just a fucking name. A common, regular name. Nothing to grin about. Still, Ryan smiled, and the hand around his waist tightened a little before he let go.

His arm was warm in the cold, Detroit night.

“Nice to meet you, Hank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? I did say it was going to be a slow burn.

**Author's Note:**

> New Fandom! I'll be honest, I haven't played the game. I don't have a PS4 and thus, I can only depend on the youtubers for the canon materials. I imagine this happens in the ending where the revolution happens peacefully and everybody lives. 
> 
> For you that might get worried about the OMC, I don't plan him to last very long. This story will absolutely end in Connor/Hank. 
> 
> Also, a little heads up because I feel bad if it disappoints you, either in that beginning or later in future chapters, I don't usually write graphic sexual content. I always get insecure about it, so I usually just don't write it in even though I read a lot of it. But, since I managed to write 4k words of it for another fandom, I thought hey, maybe I should practice. And bottom hank has such a small selection of fic in here that I thought maybe I can add more, because I do prefer it.


End file.
